


Halls of Shining Marble

by LuciferxDamien



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Emotional Manipulation, Extremely Dubious Consent, M/M, Mild Gore, Murder for Fun (Grandmaster killing people because he can), Rough Sex, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-12-27 02:03:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18294626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuciferxDamien/pseuds/LuciferxDamien
Summary: Loki knows that he is powerful, but what happens when he meets a being whose power is beyond comprehension?





	Halls of Shining Marble

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DictionaryWrites](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/gifts).



It was cold and quiet in this place, or perhaps it was just his heart that was cold. Bitter and cold. 

Though… There did seem to be few wandering around the halls. Halls that were always abuzz with gossip and squalid looks. Loki chewed on his bottom lip, stalling, hesitating. 

Loki’s appearance had been _requested_ in the great hall. Requested… but Loki knew that neglecting to appear would be… 

He grimaced; there was no point in thinking about it. The tap, tap, tap of his boots was deafening as he continued through the winding halls. 

This place was shined brilliantly, but he had seen what the streets looked like, the dirt and poverty below, and well… As much as Loki could have twisted and turned around the creatures in this strange place of intersections, walking unnoticed in the filth… 

It wasn’t exactly his style, now was it? Why live in poverty, grovelling for scraps, when he could rule and live in praise? 

All it would take was time… And Loki had plenty of it, now. 

Thinking of Thor, of Óðinn, Frigga… They were gone now and spending thought on them would do nothing to change that, all he had to do was focus on the next task, the next thing this loon needed from him and… 

The doors slid open with an electric buzz and… 

Loki gasped. 

“Well uh, do you _love_ it?” the Grandmaster asked, smiling so bright as he shook his shoulders in a shimmy. It was unnerving, the look on the Grandmaster’s face, so full of _glee_ and Loki had to use every ounce of strength he had not to wretch on the gleaming, shining floors of the Grandmaster’s great hall. 

There had to have been at least a dozen bodies strewn across the room, the walls splattered in blood and whatever passed as blood for that other unfortunate creature. 

He tried not to gag, tried to keep the tremble of his hands from showing, curling his fingers into a tight fist at his thigh. “Oh? For me?” His voice cracked and his heart thumped harder, blood rushing in his ears. 

“A gift!” The Grandmaster licked his lips. It felt as if dizzying ice pumped through Loki’s veins suddenly. 

There were certainly nicer gifts one could give, but Loki smiled, bright and white, all the same, and tried not to breathe in the stench or pass out from the gore. “A gift…” Loki looked away, as if he were admiring the death, this _gift_ , but he was only trying to regain his composure before he looked back at the Grandmaster, searching his face, his eyes, for… Anything other than what Loki feared, that this man was nothing more than a lunatic. “A gift _for_ me?” Loki found nothing but lunacy and raw, uninhibited power there. 

“Of course, for _you_!” The grin and brow quirk the Grandmaster was sporting as he swirled his glass had Loki even more on edge, but he took a step forward, and then another, returning the Grandmaster’s look of enjoyment, because he had to. “Come now! Look around, look _around_!” 

And Loki did, and not necessarily because he was ordered to, his curiosity ever present to be his greatest foil. There were several creatures he recognized, one had pulled his hair, just the other night, and then another had tried to say something unflattering to him, foolishly enough within the Grandmaster’s ear shot. And… 

_“My, what **pretty hair** you have…” Some woman, some creature with bright gold eyes said, sneering at him, walking by and running her clawed hands through his hair, yanking his head back. _

_Loki swallowed hard, making eye contact with the Grandmaster, rather than her. “O-oh?” he stuttered out, licking his lips as he tested the grip on his hair. He could overpower her, but is that what the Grandmaster would have wanted? Was she sent over to join him in sucking this cock that was in his face? It was a constant struggle, to know which step to make, and just where and how to make that step._

_The Grandmaster sighed and Loki used a spark of his seiðr to shock her back, grinning, jerking the neglected cock in his face languidly. “Once I’ve finished here, perhaps I can share some secrets, of how I get such nice hair? I mean…” Loki lapped his tongue over the cock, tugging back foreskin to swirl his tongue more fully over the most sensitive parts, mildly musing that at least, tonight, this cock was fairly familiar to him, even if it had a touch of a sickly green sheen. “Your hair is rather rough, my dear,” Loki finished with a curt laugh before ignoring her to go back to pleasuring, pleasuring, pleasuring, so that the Grandmaster might be pleased with his performance._

_The woman, whatever she was, was livid, but she had enough sense not to spit upon him, Loki noted from the corner of his eye, ever watchful of and leery of the Grandmaster and his mercurial moods._

That night, Loki recalled, the Grandmaster had invited him to a _private_ party, after Loki had been thoroughly fucked and ruined and… 

And it didn’t matter. The Grandmaster had beckoned to him that night, and Loki had opened his legs and subjected himself to hours, and hours, and hours of torture and denial, all in service of the Grandmaster. 

Loki had been allowed to sleep as long as he needed to, after that. The Grandmaster cooing at him, soothing something over his raw skin, his aching muscles. It was the nicest thing he had felt in… a lifetime. 

A sardonic grin came over Loki, the familiar feelings of being manipulated, left at the mercy of someone much stronger than he was, but ah… Where Óðinn had been powerful, that much was quite certain, his skills of manipulation could have used some work, at least, in comparison to the supreme being that stood before him now, laughing and chattering on, Loki only barely aware of what was being said. 

“Aren’t you _so_ happy, Loki?” 

He was jolted out of his thoughts, blinking, his fingers tingling and feeling numb, but that might have been because he held his fists too tightly. “Oh… I _relish_ this, my Grandmaster…” Eons of being subjected to everyone else’s cruelty, dismissed for using seiðr, lesser because he shied away from the sword and shield and… And there was never anyone to recognize his skills, his power, his wit. 

A lifetime of craving recognition, and finally, it had culminated in _this_. A display of death and destruction; how felicitous that he should be appreciated in this way. 

A lifetime of crude comments that Loki could only smile and accept, with grace and humility… 

_“Well, aren’t **you** so happy?” A sneer, Loki sitting near the Grandmaster as they gathered around for the day’s entertainment. It might have been a mating ritual of some rare beasts, Loki couldn’t be entirely sure. _

_A man, or what appeared to be a man, walked by, snarling at him._

_“Careful now… You’ll lose your lithe figure, eating up that much of the Grandmaster’s **thick** cream…” he whispered, barely audible as he clacked away in ridiculous shoes. Crude. _

_“Oh, Loki, how, how about a private party tonight…” Loki chanced a careful glance at the Grandmaster, but he only appeared to be engrossed in this… Well, whatever it was that they were supposed to be watching._

Or, so Loki had thought that the Grandmaster was entirely absorbed in his show at the time. He shuddered, looking into the glassy eyes of the man that stared at him, lifeless. Loki couldn’t chance a look at the Grandmaster, this time. 

All of them. All these beings, these creatures… 

Loki spun around the room, seeing all of their faces, all of their bodies laid out just so… And. And all of them. Every last one of them had tried to take him down a peg, had tried to insult him, or had otherwise been cruel to him and. 

And now, they were laying in pieces, their innards liquefying, the stench overwhelming, the horrified looks on all of their faces… 

Loki tried not to gag, tried to keep his horror packed away and he smiled. 

He smiled because it was all that he could do, it was the only way that he could protect himself as he walked through the mess and viscera. It was all he could do to… 

He had thought that walking into this shining tower, however long ago it was since he had been thrown from the Bifröst, was going to be simple, so simple. Just wait, watch whatever ruler had made himself king here and just… Wait. 

It wouldn’t take long, would it? None were like he was, a god, a master of the unseen and the forbidden. Things that Óðinn had declared too dark and dangerous to ever be known, Loki knew those things. He knew the secrets, and while he did not know Hela, by name, at least, he had come across a myth or two that alluded to her. The destruction of the Valkyries… 

Óðinn never would answer him, when he had been just a boy, as to why there were no Valkyries any longer. The way he would become tight lipped, the way his fingers would curl into his palm, much as Loki’s were now, Loki hadn’t been able to understand why… 

Now he knew why Óðinn would shudder and look off into the sky, silent for what seemed like an age before he would whisper, _“Loki… The Valkyries have moved on, to tend to Valhalla”_. It made perfect sense, at last. 

But, it didn’t matter. None of that mattered. None of it… 

Hubris had led him through the tall doors of this tower, and hubris had brought him down to his knees, before a being that even Loki could not even begin to comprehend. Hela was powerful, her seiðr had overwhelmed him, but it was familiar. The Grandmaster was… An ageless being that was beyond his understanding. 

Loki grinned, on the precipice of the darkest abyss he had ever had the misfortune to stare into, and oh, oh, this one looked back at him, into his black soul and dark heart. He was such a fool, wasn’t he? 

Was this not all his fault? His entire existence was destruction and pain, and even with his entire family gone, he could not escape that. 

“Isn’t it, isn’t it just beautiful?” the Grandmaster whispered, and Loki was close enough to touch him, and he could only pray to whatever great beings were left in the universe that he would not end up just like those rotting corpses on the shining marblesque floor. He could only hope to be heard, though, he knew he most likely did not deserve it. 

He had wound up in this situation all on his own, hadn’t he? 

Walking into an unfamiliar kingdom, with only thoughts of usurping… 

He was foolish. Arrogant. 

Trapped. 

And the Grandmaster was so much _more_ than Loki could have ever dreamed of. His power was great, it was tremendous, and it made Loki tremble as he reached out, taking from the Grandmaster his drink, throwing his head back and hoping it was something that would dull the racing of his mind, the throbbing of his heart. 

“You are…” Loki laughed, looking away and hoping he appeared demure. He came into this tower with only thoughts of killing this man, and now, he was his whore, a slave. At the mercy of a creature that even Loki could not define, older and more powerful than even Thanos had been, and he was caught in a web. Struggling would only cause him to be devoured more quickly, but staying still just ensured a slow and agonizing death. 

“Yes, yes, yes?” 

“You are _power_ …” Loki finished. Terrifying, startling power. He had always been drawn to power, like a moth to the flame, and now, he was on the edge of being burned alive… 

“Oh, _do_ go on,” the Grandmaster laughed, but before Loki could get in another word, he was being crowded. Swallowed by the gravitational pull that was the Grandmaster. Loki licked his lips, whatever poison the Grandmaster had in his chalice working into Loki’s system nicely, quickly. “How about a _private_ party… Where ah, _no one_ will bother us?” The Grandmaster laughed at his own sadistic joke. Loki gave a chuckle, looking over the dead once more. Their night together had just started, and yet, Loki was more lost and raw now than after the typical session. 

One of those that laid on the floor, he had liked her. Blue skin, striking eyes. She seemed like she could have had some Jötunn running through her veins, her skin a very particular and familiar shade of blue, and then the markings… 

Loki never did invest much in learning about himself, not that side of his heritage, at least… 

Loki had kissed her, just once, and felt a cold rush through his body, letting out a satisfying groan as they broke apart. She had gasped at him and he realized his eyes were red, his skin fading back to it’s familiar shade, a hint of blue lingering. 

Loki couldn’t recall that she had done anything unkind to him, and yet, there she lay, unmoving. 

“For you…” 

_‘ **Because** of me…’_ Loki thought to himself and the Grandmaster laughed, pulling him along. 

“No distractions, no distractions, no dis-trac-tions!” the Grandmaster drew out the last word, dancing through the halls, shaking his hips in a way that was wholly silly and Loki laughed, a short, almost genuine laugh. 

He could take the lives of a dozen or more creatures, and then dance around like it was all a prank. Loki supposed he could admire that, perhaps even learn from it, one day. 

If he lived that long. 

How cruel and sardonic this place has been… 

How cruel and sardonic his life had been, that he found a twisted sense of comfort in being led by the hand of a lunatic. A powerful, dangerous lunatic. 

It was the Grandmaster’s quarters suddenly, and Loki let himself be pulled around, let himself be pushed down, slapped across the face. He smiled, he groaned, sucked on fingers, before his leathers were ripped off, leaving him bare, bleeding slightly. 

Any position the Grandmaster asked of him, and he was in it, taking, taking, taking. Begging, because that’s what the Grandmaster liked. Spreading his legs, bending over, holding his ankles as he laid on his back, it didn’t matter. Loki let himself be overwhelmed, he let himself have orgasm after orgasm after orgasm, and with each spill, he forgot one more face, one more twisted body. 

Perhaps that was simply because the Grandmaster held him down by the throat for a touch too long. Sparks blossomed and bloomed behind his eyes, the bright, luminous room fading into darkness, and there was still the dull, thick feeling of the Grandmaster sliding in and out of him, slapping him across the face. With each recovery, the Grandmaster’s hand wrapped around his neck once more, pressing down harder, harder, harder. 

Loki would let himself die, his strength fled, ripped out of him, his throat sore from more than being choked, as he cried out, screaming his spill, forced into a second orgasm before the first had yet to fully resolve itself. 

And then that big hand around his neck, holding him down. Just brute strength, not an ounce of otherworldly power behind it. 

All Loki knew was that the Grandmaster was grinning at him, and Loki assumed he must have been grinning back, too. 

It was dark and the room spinning, blinking out. His body was spent, ruined. There might have been an overwhelming slickness between his legs, where the Grandmaster has spent himself again, again, again. Or, maybe his entire body just felt slick, squishy, dissolving away in the fuzziness that was the room. 

The Grandmaster’s voice tugged at him, and he could only hope that he would be allowed to sleep as long as he needed again, after this private party had concluded. _If_ it had yet to conclude. 

“Oh, _my_ , Brother…” 

_Brother…_

Loki licked at his lips, thinking of Thor’s smiling face, his entire existence glowing golden before him, with blue eyes that sparkled like stars. 

“You _do_ like this one, don’t you?” It was a voice that Loki couldn’t place, deep. Lonely. 

“Well, hey… Hey now! _Collector_ , I’ll not have, hey well, I won’t just stand for you taking him, just for your collection!” 

A chuckle, deep, rumbly. Was that Thor? Thor always laughed that way… “Of course not, my Brother, of course not… I’ve since learned to keep my hands from that which you deem _yours_. But…” 

“But, but, but…” The Grandmaster’s sigh was sharp and high pitched, making Loki hiss as he tried to roll over. 

“He’d be so pretty in a cage…” 

“Oh, _oh_ , no, no, _no_. Not ah, not this one, Tivan. Haha, no, not, not this one, Brother dear.” 

“No?” Rustling fabric, movement pulled Loki from his desperate need to sleep and he forced himself to listen, to remain conscious just a little longer. 

Loki groaned and the Grandmaster came to sit by him then, cooing at him, rubbing a hand down his thigh. “Oh, Tivan… This one would lose his beauty. But not, hmm. Not quickly, slowly, ever so slowly, and he would be nothing more than, well, another dull creature for your glass prisons. If you stuck him in a cage, that is.” 

“ _Ah_. That’s a pity. They always lose their spark, the prettiest ones…” A chuckle, and this time it sounded nothing like Thor. 

“Why, hmmm. What could _possibly_ bring you all the way over here, away from your oh-so precious collection…” 

“There is trouble coming…” 

The Grandmaster laughed and Loki felt himself fading, trying so hard to fight off the exhaustion as fingers caressed through his hair gently. “Oh, Tivan… Have you yet to learn? After _all_ this time? There is _always_ trouble coming.”


End file.
